Relative
by Princess Angel Rose
Summary: A brother is someone who shares parents with you. At least, that's Sherlock's understanding of it.


**Oh no. New fandom. Like I need more ways to procrastinate...This is my first venture into Sherlock writing, but hopefully not my last.**

The thing is…Sherlock has had a brother his whole life, much longer than he's had "friends," and yet "brother" is still the harder word to say.

Even Mycroft doesn't refer to himself as Sherlock's brother. It would confuse the hell out of the younger Holmes, because he knows that, yes, "brother" is the word for a male born of the same parents, but it has also come to mean something else to the world. And that is something Sherlock understands even less than "friend."

* * *

><p>The witness is sitting, his legs spread, one heel tapping against the tiled floor. His head is bowed and he is wringing his hands between his knees.<p>

"Mr. Jones?"

He looks up at the Detective Inspector and spares no glance for his companion until the official places a hand on his shoulder.

"This is Sherlock Holmes. He was at the store yesterday when…"

The man stands to meet them, nodding as he recognizes the man. He shakes the newcomer's hand, but still doesn't meet his eyes for more than a moment.

"Yes, Mr. Holmes. Pleased to meet you."

"I need you to tell him everything that happened to you up to the moment the gunman locked the door," Lestrade insisted as gently as possible. The other man nods, closes his eyes, and inhales deeply. He maintains eye contact with Sherlock, looking more stable than he has felt since the…_incident_. He stuffs his hands into his pockets to steady himself more. Then he narrows his eyes.

"Is your brother not with you?"

Lestrade is confused for a moment, but so is Sherlock.

"Brother? Why would Mycroft—"

"It looked like he was working with you yesterday…but I thought I heard you call him John."

Lestrade's lips form an "o" shape in recognition. Sherlock simply raises an eyebrow.

"John isn't my brother."

"Oh, sorry. Are you two…"

Lestrade's lips twitch into a grin as Sherlock takes the moment to work it out before protesting violently.

"John," he then says calmly. "Is my _colleague._"

The man is clearly confused, but he shrugs it off and goes into his narrative. When John shows up later, Sherlock all but skips off to share the new information with him, leaving the witness with Lestrade. They both watch the pair for a moment.

"Not even friends?"

The detective shrugs. "Sherlock doesn't think he has any friends."

His companion is staring at him inquisitively, but Lestrade's eyes have not left the now famed duo.

"You're his friend," Mr. Jones observes.

"I try to be," is all Lestrade will claim.

"And that John fellow? He seems like a friend to me."

A few days ago, that's exactly what Lestrade would have called him: Sherlock's friend. Maybe Sherlock's _best_ friend. But the description had never felt…complete. The new word resounding in his head seemed to fit better.

"I think you had it right the first time. They're brothers. They just aren't related."

* * *

><p>It's months later—<em>months<em>—and, while Sherlock has yet to forget the day, he hasn't exactly thought about it either, but he's about to meet Harry for the first time, so family is something he's been pondering lately.

"Why is she coming? You two don't get on."

John rolls his eyes, but doesn't look away from his paper.

"Still, she _is_ my sister."

"And you, her brother." Sherlock's fingertips are pressed together, and he is staring at nothing in particular.

"Indeed."

"Tell me John," Sherlock says, focusing on the front-page picture hiding the doctor's face from him. "What does that entail?"

Watson lowers his paper, his lips pursed, his eyebrow raised.

"What?"

"Being a brother," Sherlock says, disdain in his voice. The obvious "didn't you hear me?" isn't voiced, but John hears it anyway. He turns his head, narrowing his eyes at the detective.

"You have a brother, Sherlock."

"Technically, yes."

He sounds bored. He's staring into space again, but John is regarding him curiously.

"You _are_ a brother Sherlock."

"Again, yes," the man says, tone gone from bored to amused and a little irritated, like whenever John insists on stating the victim is dead before getting on with the useful observations. "John?"

The doctor sighs, not quite sure what to say. Still, the inquisitive tone demands an answer.

"It means…it means I know her. If she's in trouble, I take care of her. I put up with her, even when she's at her worst. I don't always agree with her, and I don't always like her, but I love her, and I'm always there for her. You _have_ a brother, Sherlock. You should know this."

Sherlock ignores the question hidden in John's statement.

"What about genetics? Don't you have to share parents?"

John sighs again.

"It's…it's relative, Sherlock. Usually, yes, but I've known men in war to consider themselves brothers. It's a chicken and egg sort of thing. Either you act that way _because _you're brothers, or you're brothers because you act like you are."

Sherlock presses his palms together and stares into space. He sits there, long after John has folded his paper and claimed hunger and left. Long after the sun has stopped shining through the window and the sound of traffic on the street has faded to only the occasional rattle of tires.

He's been considering the facts for hours.

Fact: A brother does not necessarily have to be a blood relative.

Fact: A brother is someone who knows you, puts up with you, takes care of you, is there for you.

Fact: John Watson has seen him at his best, and he has seen him at his worst. He has never once seen Sherlock in danger without doing something about it. He has not left. And he has gone so far as to put his life in jeopardy only to save Sherlock's. He is unendingly loyal.

Fact: _You _have_ a brother, Sherlock._

Clearly, John meant Mycroft (who, upon further consideration, Sherlock must admit is not as awful as he often makes him out to be). But in his mind, Sherlock is back at Scotland Yard, speaking to a man about a hostage situation he really should have seen coming, but didn't (because hadn't John told him a joke that actually made him laugh? Is that what distracted him?)

Conclusion: His flatmate, the man he sometimes calls friend, if only in his head, is more than that.

Conclusion: Sherlock has two brothers. One is named John.


End file.
